"Have you thought of this, Lady Limpenny? Suppose, when you have sold it, you go to see it now and then, and covet it—covet your neighbor's goods—perhaps long even to steal it. Where is the spiritual improvement then?"
"Money! You shock me! You horrify me! Could that be possible? Is there such weakness in human nature?"
"Quite possible, I assure you. You have been yourself describing the influence of these unregulated likings. How do you know that they may not get the better of you in another way? Take my advice, and keep your china. It will do you less harm in your own possession than in that of anybody else."
"If I could think so, my dear Money."
"Think it over, my dear Lady Limpenny; look at it from this point of view, and let me know your decision—then we can talk about it again."
Lady Limpenny relapsed for a while into reflection, with a doubtful and melancholy expression upon her face. Money, however, had gained his point, or, as he would himself have expressed it, "choked her off" for the moment.
"I don't like your new friend," said Minola to Victor.
"My new friend? Who's he?"
"Your friend Mr. St. Paul."
"Oh, he isn't a new friend, or a friend at all. He is rather an old acquaintance, if anything."